


Love in Idleness

by TheInfamousFingersmith



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A Midsummer Night's Dream - Freeform, Acting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Backstage, Costumes, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousFingersmith/pseuds/TheInfamousFingersmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris starts work backstage in a Theatre, he ends up getting more up close and personal than he ever intended to with the  leading man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Idleness

“Hi, is that Chris? It's Kay from wardrobe.... I was just wondering, how are you for work at the moment?”

The job offer had sounded innocent enough when she's described it. And being in the Theatre was better than doing another month in that shitty bar, right? But working as a dresser was nothing like any job Chris had done before. 

“So, seeing as you helped build the set, I'm assuming you know your around back stage, but let me take you through the dressing rooms anyway...”   
Kay led Chris through the labyrinth of corridors that housed the multitude of dressing rooms in the Crown Theatre, jingling a large set of keys as she went. 

“This is where the male ensemble live” she continued opening the door to a large room lined with mirrors “You'll be looking after this lot most of the time. The guys tend to be a bit messy, so if shoes or ties go missing, they're probably floating around in here somewhere. There's not a huge amount to do to be honest, except for when everyone gets changed into their fairy costumes, that's a bit manic, but mostly you'll just be needed to get everyone into their wings, and then follow them down to the stage left to help those flying into their harnesses. You've done flying before right?”

Chris looked a bit blank as the flurry of information passed through his mind. He'd read a Midsummer Night's Dream back in college, and tried his best to forget it. Fairies and flowers weren't exactly his favourite Shakespeare, and when building the darkly Gothic set out of steal girders and rubber mats, the last image in his mind had been prancing pixie boys in fairy wings. 

Kay smiled and patted his on the shoulder “it's OK, let's start from the beginning...” she said. 

***

Chris had been travelling Europe for the past 6 months, he was due to start drama school back home in Australia next year, but had found himself stuck in London with no money and low on options. To say it had been a lucky break when he'd met some of the technical crew late one night in the Dirty Duck would be an understatement. A round of beers later, and he'd swapped numbers with Vern, the burly bald head of stage who spoke a strong east end accent, and next thing he knew, Chris has woken up the next morning with a thick head and the shrill tone of his mobile cutting through his ears. . 

“Mornin' Skip. Ready for some heavy lifting?” Vern's attempt at humour this time in the morning wasn't welcome.   
“Yeah” Chris' voice rumbled as he scraped sleep out of his eyes “but call me 'Skip', 'Crocodile Dundee' or ask me to 'Throw another shrimp on the Barbie, Mate' and I will punch you in the balls“  
Vern laughed. “Deal, be at Stage Door for ten!”

 

Chris had done plenty of DIY back home, and helped his uncle out more than once on more serious building jobs back home, he knew the work was hard, and the hours long, but being inside a theatre gave the work a very different feel. It was a cliché to say that being within a theatre was like being in a family, but there was no other way Chris could describe it really. He laughed and joked with the rest of crew like they were his brothers. He barely noticed what they were building till they finally finished bolting the final girders in place. The hollow set had been transformed into a dirty industrial warehouse, and when the lights hit the stage it took on a distinctly sinister look. long shadows crept languidly at the walls and wrapped themselves around around cold steel columns. It sent chills down Chris' spine. 

When the Wardrobe Mistress had called him up a week later, Chris had jumped at the chance to see it again and be back inside the Theatre.

But going through rails of leather breeches and stuffed codpieces, Chris was starting to have second thoughts about dressing as a profession. 

*** 

The rehearsals had gone as smoothly as could be expected. The actors in the male ensemble were a rowdy lot, but they welcomed Chris warmly into their group, and considering how much they laughed and joked around in their dressing room, were surprisingly well organised, to the point where Chris barely had to do a thing other then adjust their harnesses and work with the flying team side of stage, pulling on ropes to send various actors whizzing over the audience's heads. 

It wasn't until Press Night that problems started occurring. 

“Chris! Can you come to wardrobe early today?” Kay's usually calm voice had a notch of panic in it that Chris wasn't used to hearing.   
“Sure, what's up?” he asked  
“I've erh.... Had a little accident...I'll explain it when you get here” she replied.

Walking into Wardrobe Chris was welcomed by Kay, dressed in her usual backstage uniform of black but with the addition of a bright blue support bandage wrapped around a very swollon looking right ankle. 

“Shit, are you OK?” Chris asked “What happened?”  
“yeah, I'm fine “ Kay Blushed “Long, embarrassing story, involving old friends and bad karaoke. Sum of it being I had a falling out with a flight of stairs. Unfortunately it means I can't get anywhere particularly quickly, which means I'm going to need you to take over some of my dressing roles. Is that OK?”

“Sure, whatever you need”

“Great,” said Kay with a relieved smile “I've written out a new dressing plot for you to follow” she said passing Chris a sheet of printed instructions, “its basically the same, apart from I need you Down Stage Right at the end of the court scene in Act I, Hippolyta and Theseus will come running off, and need changing into Titania and Oberon. Normally I run between the two of them, but I don't think I'll make it. So if you could Handle Oberon, I'll deal with her majesty.” Kay rolled her eyes, 

“What, she a bit of a diva or something?” Chris asked

“She's... just, very... particular” Kay chose her words carefully, “The Director loves her, and she's brilliant at what she does, but... yeah. She doesn’t like to be messed around with, probably best you leave her to me. But don't worry, you'll be dealing with Tom, and he's fine”   
Chris nodded, not sure if Kay was just being diplomatic, or if this Tom was going to be something of a Prima Donna as well.   
“Anyway”, said Kay reaching for her crutches “Have you met Tom? We'll go introduce you, hope you don't mind if we take the lift?” 

Upstairs Dressing Room 1 had a small label on the door that read 'Mr Hiddleston', but otherwise the principal actor's dressing room looked no different to the rest.   
“He's been at a photo call all morning, but he should be back by now...” Kay said as she listened at the door before knocking.

“Come in!” called the voice from within as Kay pushed open the door. 

Chris followed Kay into the room, but stopped in the doorway, his eyes fixed upon the figure before him. 

Chris could have imagined a thousand things about the actor Tom Hiddleston, but nothing would have been close to what he was now witnessing.

Oberon, King of the Fairies seemed to fill the modest dressing room. His blue eyes burned bright from under a thick smoky mask of make up. His hair was dark and wild as it fell about his face in tangled waves. He was stripped naked from the waist up, save a small cropped leather waistcoat with a collar high enough to brush against his sharp jawline. The lithe muscles of his arms were patterned in black tribal swirls that thickened and condensed as they travelled down his wrists until his hands were as black as if he's dipped them in treacle. His breeches were made of leather, feathers and fur, clinging tight to his hips and calves. He was animalistic, every inch of his form screamed of wild beasts and savage nature. He looked beautiful, he looked dangerous, he looked hungry. 

The illusion was broken only by the bright smile that lit up his face upon greeting Kay, and the blue Marks and Spencer slippers on his otherwise naked feet. Instantly the feral façade of Oberon gave way under Tom's easy manner and civil geniality as he welcomed Kay inside and ushered her into the room's only chair, delicately air kissing her cheek careful not to rub his make up off on her skin.   
Chris continued to stand, dumbstruck and awkward in the doorway, as Tom enquired after Kay's health and chatted lightly about the photo shoot. Chris shifted on his feet waiting to be introduced, doing everything he could not to look at Tom's protruding codpiece. 

“...So Chris here will be looking after you tonight, if that's OK?” 

Chris snapped out his reverie as Kay mentioned his name and immediately locked eyes with Tom. Those blue eyes bore into his own with such unwavering focus, Chris felt his cheeks start to colour and his stomach tighten. He scratched the back of his sweating neck and glanced at the floor, choosing to look at Tom's very normal slippers, rather than attempt to hold his unnatural gaze. 

Tom began to slowly wipe his hands clean as Kay continued to explain the new changes, pulling the the cloth slowly over each finger, systematically removing the molasses black paint in long strokes, his eyes never flickering once from Chris' face. 

“Pleasure to meet you Chris” he said once Kay had finished, holding out a clean hand to him. 

Chris took it. Tom squeezed his hand with a faint smile on his dark lips, and Chris was surprised how much strength there was in Tom's thin fingers. He felt his stomach tighten again and released himself from the handshake, pushing his hands into the safety of his pockets. “You too” Chris nodded with as much of a confident smile as his could muster. 

“Great, glad that's sorted” Kay stood up slowly “We'll see you later then, Tom”

“Oh, before you go” Tom turned to Kay “would you mind?” he turned his back to her and held out his arm,  
“Of course” Kay obliged, and slid the narrow waistcoat off Tom's broad shoulder's careful not to smudge the fake tattoos, before deftly unlacing the back of his breeches in a quick motion. Chris turned to open the door, his cheeks burning. Kay slipped out after him, leaving Tom to finish undressing.

“Well, you seem.... close?” Chris asked as they headed back down to wardrobe. Kay laughed  
“ Yeah, sorry, I suppose dressing it is a bit intimate when you're not used it. But hey, it shouldn't be too embarrassing, I mean at least its another bloke, it's not like you're fumbling with bra straps and trying to not watch the girls flash their tits. Besides, its just a job.”

Right. Thought Chris. Right....

* * *

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Midsummer Night's Dream company, this is your five minute call, you have five minutes. Thank you”

The Stage Managers voice rang out over the back stage tannoy, and Kay downed the last of her tea. 

“Right then team, lets get started shall we? Have a good one! C'mon Chris, give us a hand, we're stage right.” Kay dismissed the rest of the dressers from wardrobe and Chris passed her her crutches.

“Nervous?” she asked

“Do I look nervous?” he smiled

“Not as much as you did this morning” Kay said as she hopped her way along the corridor “but y'know, Press night is always a bit daunting. But I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll catch up with you soon as I can” she smiled reassuringly before disappearing down a separate corridor. 

Chris sat himself down in the small box of a room that served as the quick change area under the stage and waited for the show to start.

All too soon Tom bolted into the room and Chris leapt to his feet.   
His mind went blank, Tom wasn't the untamed spirit of Oberon now, but the cold, strict ruler of Athens Theseus. Suited and booted to military precision, hair slicked back close to his head, his jaw was clenched so tightly his cheek bones threatened to cut through his perfectly smooth cheek. He barely acknowledged Chris within the cramped room as he immediately began kicking off shoes,peeling off socks and unbuckling his belt all at once. Chris tried to help, but his fingers felt thick and clumsy as if her were wearing mittens as he fumbled over shirt buttons. 

“Leave it!” Tom hissed as he swatted Chris' hands away. 

Stepping away from him, Tom ripped the shirt over his head, tossing it aside before all but tearing the carefully pressed woollen trousers off his body.   
Dumbstruck, Chris' cheeks were aflame as he stared at the essentially naked actor before him. Sweat glistened over the muscles in back, and his shoulders rippled with agitation. 

“Jacket?!” Tom demanded as he stepped into Oberon's leather breeches and reached for a stick of black grease paint.   
Chris glanced around doltishly before plucking the small leather waistcoat off a hook, and held it out for Tom who allowed Chris to slip it over his sinewy arms.   
Smearing his face with the dark make up, Tom flashed his gaze to Chris as he looked in the mirror.

“Can you tie this?” he asked, jabbing a finger to the laces at the back of his breeches, before furiously rubbing his hands in the black paint. 

Chris pulled hastily at the laces, closing the fastening sharply.

“Jesus Christ!” Tom seethed through gritted teeth as the waistband cut into waist “its not a fucking corset Chris!” he added sharply in a cruel whisper.

“Sorry-”Chris blurted out

Tom put a finger urgently to his lips

“Keep your voice down!” he exclaimed in the same hushed tone “we're right under the audience for fuck's sake” 

Chris bit his tongue and watched helplessly as Tom ragged his fingers through his perfect coiffed hair, sending it into a tangled mess. The King of the fairies gave Chris one last frosty stare in the mirror before pushing past him, sprinting barefoot down the vom and onto the stage. 

“Shit” breathed Chris The show was a magnificent success. The audience were on their feet, stamping and applauding till their hands and voices were raw. Backstage actors and dancers cheered and kissed each other down the corridor. Champagne was being popped, and backs were patted. Chris had slunk to the safety of wardrobe until Kay had asked him to collect laundry.

Taking a deep breath he braced himself before knocking on dressing room 1. 

“come in!” a familiar voice called. 

Chris pushed open the door coyly, 

“hey, I just need to...” Inside, Vivienne Harlowe, the actress who stormed through the role of Titania this evening was draped across Tom's lap, barely out of costume and clothed only in a thin silk kimono. 

“Oh darling, you were wonderful tonight!” She exclaimed planting little red lipstick kisses on Tom's dirty cheeks. “Where did that intensity come from? You were so …brutal!”

Tom, who was still in full Oberon attire laughed merrily, Catching sight of Chris in the doorway, he made to stand, sliding Vivienne off his lap,

“Thank you sweetheart, you were marvellous too, now if you excuse me, I'm dying to get out of this oil slick of a costume!”

Vivienne pouted her red mouth as if 'petulant child' were the most sultry expression in the world. Grabbing the bottle of champagne from the dressing table, she slunk her narrow hips towards the door. 

“Fiiiiiine” she breezed “I shall see you on the dance floor Mr. Hiddleston”

“If not sooner, my dear” he smiled and she planted a final chaste kiss upon his lips

“Adieu!” Vivienne called as she slipped out. 

Chris took a step further into the room. 

“I didn't mean to interrupt-”

“Shut the door please, Chris” Tom cut him off. Chris closed the door behind him. 

Tom began to clean the make up off his face. 

“Hey, I'm really sorry about earlier, this is new to me-” 

“That much is obvious” Tom cut him off again. 

Chris folded his arms over his chest, and glared at Tom, this attitude of his was getting tiring. Fast.   
Tom glanced at the blond mountain of muscle that barricade his dressing room door and gave a narrow smile. 

“I'm Sorry” Tom said as he turned away from the mirror to face Chris “I didn't mean to intimidate you.”

“Ha!” Chris scoffed, “What makes you think tha-”

“Really?” Tom feigned innocence, blue eyes wide, he turned to Chris and began to close the distance between them. “it's just that, earlier, I could have sworn I saw you blushing....”

Chris didn't back down. Tom kept advancing. He was inches from Chris' face. 

“were you blushing? Chris? Did I make you blush?”

Chris could feel the heat radiating off Tom's semi naked body. His exertions on stage tonight had left him glowing, a sent rising off his body that was a heady mix of sweat, leather, grease paint. It was salty, warm and masculine. He took a deep breath and felt his loins twitch.   
Chris said nothing. What sort of power trip was this guy on at the moment?   
He held his gaze and dared to lean his face closer to Tom's, refusing to be intimidated. 

“Listen mate, shows' over, drop the act. You're not impressing anyone right now, so give it a rest, yeah?” 

Tom positively trembled with delight. The challenge Chris presented was too delicious. The man was an Adonis. Built as strong as an ox, but with the gentle demeanour of Labrador dog. It was thrilling to watch him get hot under the collar, and Tom, confidence riding high from the audience's adoration and still harbouring some fairy wickedness in his mind, just couldn't help himself. 

“How about you just do your job?” Tom riled, pressing his face ever closer to Chris' so that Chris could feel the hot breath of Tom's words wash over his skin.  
Enough was enough. Chris slammed his palms against Tom's chest, shoving him so forcefully that Tom fell back, crashing into his dressing table. Tom looked up at Chris momentarily like a deer caught in headlights, gripping the edge of the table behind him for support. He physically flinched as Chris crossed the room in two strides. Looming over the shrinking actor, Chris' large hand gripped Tom's shoulder, spinning him round Chris held him in place, bent over the desk, toiletry bottles scattered to the floor. With his left hand still tightly gripping Tom's shoulder, Chris reached with his right for the lace fastening at Tom's waist. Tom lifted his head to watch Chris' face in the mirror before him, his eyes wide and unbelieving. Chris didn't return his gaze. He seized a handful of laces and ripped his hand away. There was a snapping sound, and Tom winced as the waistband of his trousers was pulled painfully tight before falling blissfully slack. He looked up just time to see Chris drop the broken laces to the floor before leaving the room. 

“How about you just put your fucking clothes on” he said coldly before slamming the door. 

* * *   
The Crown Theatre bar was calling last orders, but the the atmosphere was still buzzing with all those involved in the show, the after party looked like it was only just beginning.

“So, who's coming out dancing?” Kay asked, placing her empty glass back on the bar.

“Did someone say dancing?” Tom appeared out of nowhere, sliding in behind Kay to reach the bar. 

Having left Oberon and Theseus behind he looked clean and fresh, relaxed.  
Chris's eyes flashed at Tom, but Tom didn’t even acknowledge his presence. 

“How can it be?” Tom said with a teasing smile “That you are impaired enough to warrant neglecting me in your dressing duties, and yet you're fit enough to go dancing? Really Katarina, that's deplorable.”

Kay pulled a face.

“Oh please, Thomas, its not like I'm out to do the bloody river dance. Obviously by 'dancing' I mean 'drinking'. And hey! I left you in good hands!” She retorted hotly.

Tom finally cast his eyes over Chris. Chris took a long slow drink from his beer. 

“Oh yes,” the smile that spread across Tom's face didn't look as innocent as it has before “Very pressional hands....” His eyes remained fixed on Chris'. 

Chris stuck his nose further into his pint.

“See? Everyone's happy” Kay said, oblivious to tension between the two men. “C'mon Chris, drink up! We're waiting on you!”

Chris felt the beer catch in his throat. 

“I don't dance” he said bluntly.

“Neither does Kay, but apparently that's no excuse” 

“Yeah, c'mon Chris, it's not like you can make a fool of yourself while I'm there with these” Kay waved a crutch awkwardly “What are you afraid of?”

Chris felt Tom's eyes burn into his own, and a grin worthy of the craftiest Cheshire Cat spread across his face. 

“Yeah Chris, What are you afraid of?” he purred. 

“Nothing” Chris tried not to slam his glass when he placed it on the bar. “Let's go” The club was noisy, but not crowded. Indeed it seemed like the only people there were somehow connected to the theatre, such was the midweek party atmosphere. Kay was true to her word, and propped herself up at the bar where Chris was only all too happy to keep her company, away from the DJ where everyone else was congregating. 

Of all the people dancing, Tom dominated the floor. He danced with unparalleled energy, rocking and gyrating to the beat of every song. He danced by himself, with groups, one on one, with men or women, it didn’t matter. He twirled pretty dancers around till they were dizzy before sidling up to the burly tech crew, charming them into a soft shoe gentle sway. But was with Vivienne where he really liked to show off.   
They would grasp at each other as if in the throws of passion, exploring hands caressing every part of the other's body. Hips swaying and pulsating to the rhythm music they were transformed into lovers on fire. Sweat dripped down their faces as they clung to one another, moving in perfect synchronisation. As a couple they couldn’t have looked more involved with another, apart from the fact that every time Chris glanced over at them, Tom's eyes were coolly fixed on his. 

This lurid display continued until there wasn't one moderately sober soul left. Chris drank until he successfully removed Tom's thrusting hips from his immediate thoughts, focusing instead on Kay's ridiculous stories of self inflicted injuries. Feeling light headed from the beer, he was soon chatting, joking and finally relaxed, his hearty laugh could even be heard above the pounding music. Eventually the theatre crowd began to thin, and the those that were left slowed the hectic dancing into a smooth soul jam. 

“Oh mate, I love this song!” Chris exclaimed, as slow drumbeat started up,

“I need to pee” Kay said, “but you should go dance” she nodded suggestively towards the dance floor. 

Chris turned around. Tom was alone, but dancing a slow, funky bee line towards Chris. He had a small smile on his lips, but any malice Chris had seen earlier had vanished. His cheeks were flushed pink with alcohol, and as he moved closer across the dance floor, his moves became progressively sillier, deliberately taking piss out of his own dancing before beckoning to Chris. Chris laughed. He couldn't help it, the man who had been so lavishly dancing with all the grace of a professional, was now looking like the worst kind of embarrassing dad at a school disco. Tom beckoned again, and still chuckling, Chris shook his head. Tom continued his 'drunk uncle at a wedding ' shuffle, and sidled up to Chris. 

“I can see you're a Stevie Wonder, fan” Tom said, close to Chris' ear “So I'm not going to take 'no'   
for an answer” his hands slid up Chris' chest to grip the lapels of his jacket.

Pulling his face away, Tom gave a cheeky wink and such a warm smile that Chris, dull on alcohol, faulted and allowed himself to be dragged onto the dance floor.  
Tom released his grip. 'Oh, fuck it' Chris thought and without further encouragement started up a slow swagger that rivalled Tom's very best bad dancing. Tom threw his head back and laughed delightedly, the two dominating male figures cutting a terrible rug.

Bonding over bad dance moves, Chris slowly began to warm towards Tom. As the song changed to a lightly slower beat and lower volume, Chris leaned his head in towards Tom.

“Sorry about earlier” He said. 

Without breaking rhythm Tom shook his head, 

“Don't be” he said “I may have deserved it” He gave a small shrug, “I may have even liked it”, his eyes flashed, and an impish grin played at the corners of his mouth.

Chris' feet kept moving, but his face fell as blank as his mind, he tried to process what Tom had just said. Feeling stupid from too many beers, he wanted to believe he had misheard the actor. But a thin fingered hand slipped around his thick waist, and with the music growing more soulful, Tom's movement became dangerously feline again. Dipping to the beat, one of Tom's long lean legs slipped between Chris' own, and he felt the hand on his back disappear under his jacket, splayed fingers pressed against the small of his back, his naked flesh protected from Tom's touch only by the thin cotton shirt he wore. Pulling himself closer onto Chris, Tom was tall enough that their belt buckles grated against one another every time Tom swayed to the music. Suddenly Chris became aware once again of the heat that poured off Tom's body, and the deep masculine sent that rose with it. He took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. The smell that filled his lungs was different than before in the dressing room, cleaner and fresher without stage make up and stale costume, but there was still a distinct musky underlying tone that was pure Tom, it made Chris feel hollow inside his chest, like his heart had dropped into the very pit of stomach, and he felt his pulse quicken from the base of his body.   
Chris pulled back to gather his thoughts, glancing around he barely had time to notice that nearly everyone he recognised had already left before Tom closed in on him again.   
Tom's free hand glided over Chris' chest and rested on his broad shoulder. Chris felt his knees weaken and buckle, which was a mistake because it meant Tom was now practically sitting on his lap, legs interlocked, hips pressed painfully close together. Chris grabbed Tom's waist with the intention of gaining control of the situation, but the hand at Chris' shoulder continued its exploration, creeping up his neck, climbing under the collar of his shirt as Tom's face drew close enough to Chris' that they shared the same breath. Sweat prickled on the back of Chris' neck and on the base of his spine, Tom licked his lips and bent his head forward. Chris' strong fingers dug sharply into Tom's middle keeping him in place so that Tom's wet lips scarcely grazed across his own. A noise rumbled from inside Tom that was somewhere between a purr and growl. 

“I...I have to go” Chris stuttered, untangling himself from Tom's limbs he rushed to stumble out of the club, refusing to look back.

* * * 

The next day Chris did everything in his power to avoid Tom, he found the best way to do this was to avoid people all together, which was no mean feat in a busy theatre. He kept his head down during his work before the show, stayed out of the Green Room, and counted each agonisingly slow hour before the show and his inevitable encounter with the man that made even his palms sweat.   
But 7.30 approached, and Chris once again found himself sat under stage, silently listening to the evening's farce unfold, and braced himself for impact. 

Theseus ran into the small quick change room just as before, but something felt very different. As he began to peel off the layers of military uniform, today's Theseus significantly lacked the fury and bluster of yesterday, and even though his eyes were still keenly cold, the ice within them was introspective. The transformation into Oberon was performed in almost perfect silence. Tom allowed Chris to swap his shirt for leather waistcoat without prompting him, without even looking at him. And it wasn't until Tom swapped his wool trousers for leather breaches did Chris feel compelled to break that silence. As tom stripped, Chris noticed a thin yellowing mark across his abdomen, and a series of small faintly purple dots on his sides that perfectly matched Chris' finger tips. 

“Shit” breathed Chris, and tentatively reached out a hand to examine the damage. 

Startled, Tom glanced up, his wide eyes meeting Chris' for the first time that day. Then everything went black.

“Shit” It was Tom's turn to swear. “what's going on?”

The confused murmurings of the audience could be heard over head, and a moment later the figure a member of stage management stuck their head round the door, illuminated by a couple of hand   
torches.

“Sorry gents, looks like there's been a power cut” he apologised, setting one of the torches down on the floor, giving the small room a little light “We're having to reset the system, should be about ten minutes, just hang tight and will be up and running again shortly”, he disappeared again, letting the door shut behind him, returning the room to its prior state of uncomfortable silence. 

Tom gave an audible sigh, placing the greasepaint he'd picked up back on the table unable to continue the torchlight. Chris shifted in the gloom, unsure of how to proceed, but concealed in the safety of darkness, and from Tom's all too intense gaze, he found the courage to confront him. 

“Did...Did I do that?” he asked warily. 

“What?” Tom asked, Chris took a step closer, feeling his way in the shadows.

“That, those, marks.” He reached out, gesturing blindly. “Did I do them?”

“Don't worry about it” Tom said gently “I was pushing my luck, I shouldn't have been so eager to wind you up” He turned around to face Chris' voice and not realising how close he was, his body brushed against Chris' hand. The warm touch of his palm against his exposed flesh brought his skin out in goosebumps and he shuddered. Chris should have pulled his hand away, but it lingered around Tom's waist. It was Tom that shifted away from his touch and frustrated he ran his hands roughly through his hair letting out a long exasperated breath. 

“I'm sorry” Chris said, sounding closer than before. 

“Christ, I'm the one who should be apologising!” exclaimed Tom “I'm sorry. So sorry, I've behaved appallingly, I have no excuses. At first I thought I'd just gotten too deeply into character, but that's not it. How can I explain it?” For once, Tom appeared to struggle for words. He sighed “Shakespeare once wrote; “As long as we are insecure, we must wash our crowns in these streams of flattery, and let our faces hide our hearts like masks, disguising what they really are...”  
“Speak English, Tom” Chris interrupted.

“I'm trying!” Tom raked his hands over his head again “But damn it man, don't you see? You're in my head, you're under my skin. Since the moment I saw you, you set my soul on fire, my blood boils for you! From nowhere of reason comes this insurmountable need possess you, I yearn to dominate you, consume you, Chris! And yet I'm am rendered impotent in your presence! For fuck's sake, I could dress my feelings up in all the fucking poetry in the world, and still it wouldn't come close to the expressing the extent to which I want you, Chris. And the fact that you don't want me? It kills me,” 

He was breathing heavily, struggling not to raise his voice and remain unheard to the thousands of ears above their heads. Chris' eyes had begun to adjust to the dim light, and he could make out Tom's frantic outline and searching eyes. The feral Oberon was now exposed as a deer in headlights.   
Gently he reached out and laid his hand upon Tom's shoulder.

“Don't” Tom protested. 

Chris' hand shifted upward till it cupped the back of his neck. 

“Please,” He added weakly “you don't know what you do to me,”

Slowly, but firmly, Chris pulled Tom to him. A noise that might have been a whimper caught in Tom's throat, unable to resist the other man's strength. Chris' hands slotted into place on Tom's waist, and Tom could feel his face millimetres from his own, but didn't dare move. Chris' lips connected with a feather touch to his own. Tom whimpered in earnest, and the touch came again. The delicate brush of Chris' lips given willingly ensnared him, it was the tiniest taste, heavenly as manna, but not nearly enough. Tom leaned in now to take his fill. Wrapping his arms about Chris' infinitely muscular shoulders his hands gripped the back of his head and his lips locked onto Chris' mouth. For a moment Chris remained as unmoving as a mountain, but Tom's mouth covered his with such force that he began to draw the very breath out of his lungs, and he caught Tom's lip between his teeth in retaliation, and tighten his grip. This only served to send a thrill jarring down Tom's body and fill him with fresh verve. He clambered upon Chris' frame, unable to press enough of his body against him. Chris pushed back, falling with a dull thud against the thin wall, he crushed Tom beneath him. Tom's mouth broke free to gasp for air and he groaned as Chris ground his hips into his pelvis. Pinned to the wall, he wrapped his long legs about Chris desperate for more, and claimed Chris' mouth for his own once again, velvet lips covering nashing teeth that bit and nipped. Chris' hands covered his ribs, gliding over his sides before raking down his hips. Tom's leather breaches that hadn't been properly fastened began to slide down all too easily under his caress, and Tom surrendered Chris' mouth, allowing it free reign over his supple neck which Chris sunk into hungrily, forcing Tom to bite into his own fist to prevent from crying out. 

Clinical white light flooded the box room in blinding flash as the lights snapped back into life.

“Ahhh, fuck!” squealed Tom. 

Chris dropped him immediately, and weakly back on his feet Tom hitched up his breeches, and the two burst into a flurry of professional activity. The play above them erupted into action once more to an audible cheer from the audience, and with barely a moment to compose themselves stage management returned.

“Two minutes till you're on stage, Tom” they said, poking their head round the door “you ready?”

“Yes, no problem!” Tom chimed without turning around, smearing black liberally on his face, hoping to control his flushed cheeks. Chris also kept his back to the door as he swiftly tied Tom's waistband.   
The stage manager slipped out again, and Tom suppressed a giggle looking at Chris who smiled back. Putting a swift finishing touch to his make up, Tom snatched a last hungry kiss from Chris before leaping off on stage. 

* * *   
Tom made his final impatient bow as the play reached its end and all but ran off stage, nearly tripping over members of the ensemble. Tearing down the corridor he threw himself into his dressing room. Chris was already there. Snapping the door shut behind him, Tom leapt at him. Chris caught him with ease and crushed his thin body against him, already he could feel the desire in Tom swell as he covered him in greasy black kisses, his painted hands clawing at his face and catching his hair. Chris hitched Tom up on to his hips and supported him there as a tangle of limbs wound themselves about his body. Tom's mouth had begun to trail down Chris' neck and explore his throat with long wet licks of his tongue, but he caught the make up smudged mouth with his own, kissing him roughly, his stubbled chin grazing against Tom's softly shaven cheek. 

A knock at the door pulled Tom's face away.

“Are you decent, darling?” called the all too familiar tones of Vivienne. Harlowe. 

“Ignore it” Chris growled.

“I can't” whispered Tom, pushing himself away,

“Thoooomas?” Vivienne cooed, tapping on the door with her long finger nails.

“Ignore it!” Chris demanded, his large hand slipping beneath the waistband of Tom's trousers and gripping his buttocks sharply. 

Tom's eyes lit up with excitement as Chris' short nails scraped across his cheeks, and a deviant smile spread across his face.   
“Coming!” he cried to Vivienne as his climbed down from Chris.

“You will be...” Chris muttered darkly as he was ushered into the en suite bathroom. 

Behind the bathroom door, Chris caught snatched of Tom's hurried conversation. 

“Sorry darling, I really have to rush off tonight...”

“Your make up's a mess, what on earth have been doing?”

“I told you, I'm in a rush, you caught me just about to get in the shower...”

“Don't let me stop you,”

Tom laughed at Vivienne's flirtations. Chris felt a flame of jealousy flair within him. He gripped the door frame tightly and kept silent. 

“Please Viv, I'm already late....”

The conversation drifted out of earshot, and Chris tensed in anticipation. 

He heard the door close, followed by the click of the lock. Tom opened the bathroom door to reveal Chris looming over him, his face overcast, the noise of his hunger rumbled from his chest like dark thunder, the sound sending shivers of excitement down Tom's spine as if he's been touch by electricity. Tom approached Chris as if he were an uncaged lion, waiting for him to bite. And when Tom slipped his hand under Chris' t shirt, exploring his sharply cut muscles for the time, he pounced. Covering Tom with his body he dragged them to the floor, and wasted no time in pulling him free from his meagre costume. Hot body against the cold floor, Tom lay exposed beneath him, writhing in deprivation of Chris' touch until Chris subdued him with abrasive kisses that trailed the length of his body before burying his head deep between Tom's creamy thighs. Tom sat bolt upright, chest heaving yet barely able to breath through to the onslaught of pleasure Chris barraged him with. Chris pushed him back and held him in place with a one hand, while his other pinned his legs open as he continued to work his mouth upon Tom's throbbing sex. Tom struggled to contain himself as delicious spasms wrecked his body, breaths shuddered out of his chest carrying snatches of voice with them. Growing more vocal and incapable of controlling the sounds that were coming from his mouth, Chris pressed his fingers over his lips to silence him and worked him faster. Biting down on Chris' hand to stop the scream that welled in his throat, Tom's hips bucked beneath Chris' busy mouth until he was overwhelmed, and as the final surge of orgasm crashed over him, he finally surrendered. Blissful in defeat, he grew still only panting gently until Chris released him. Chris looked down upon the exhausted actor, who barely had the strength left to smile up at him. He leant down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. 

“Come home with me tonight” Tom whispered. 

Chris smiled. “You need to shower first, you're still covered in face paint”.


End file.
